4S4 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
i-ettl rnxvardness of the indident. In Samoan the word 
"jiapa" has two meanings— one being a stone, the other 
the' honorific titles of a chief. Lauta was not quite cer- 
tain -which of these two was being asked for by the 
strange present, rather by the aitu which he beheved 
resident within it. To be on the safe side he adopted 
both. The doily was dubbed "Lana Afionga le Tupa" 
—His Highness the Graven Image— and when the word 
"papa" was squeezed out of its machinery it was to be 
the duty of all within hearing to offer a stone. Un- 
fortunately little Apikali lost her doll, for it was agreed 
that children were not safe custodians of an aitu of such 
power— one that could make a graven . image speak. 
Lauta. as the oldest of the chiefs, took the toy into his 
possession. If he ever made it speak again I was not 
there to see. But undoubtedly he did, at particularly 
solemn moments, for gradually there grew upon that 
corner of the green where the graves of chiefs were, a 
heap of stones for which I never could get a satisfactory 
explanation. No matter how intimately acquainted with 
Samoan customs the Caucasian may fancy he becomes, 
there is always something withheld. Therefore I feel 
sure that in the dead of some of the island nights old 
Lauta and the chiefs solemnly bore to the tombs of their 
ancestors His Highness the Graven Image, and fearfully 
squeezed the machinery which said "papa," and then laid 
stones upon the growing heap. It must have been a 
picturesque ceremonial; certainly one that I would have 
given much to see. 
And Apikali? Well, I made her Christmas merry with 
another doll, that had no such dangerous attainments. 
Really Lauta was right, the gods should never be made 
the playthings of wee brown girlies. 
Llewella Pierce Churchill. 
A Voice from a Farm. 
It is "nigh on::o" seven moons since I wrote to the 
indoor equivalent of outdoor sport. The growing cold 
drives the growing old to cover and an interest in Forest 
AND .Strea.m was stretched a little and not broken by an 
interest in a little farm up in the northern Jersey. High- 
lands. Now that I am back in winter, quarters again and 
have a fond remembrance for the bright, sunshiny spot 
and cannot go to it, I seek consolation in Forest and 
Stream. Because a clerical friend took an interest, in 
me, I took an interest in the farm, and to all outward 
appearances we now own it. He has one-half and I have 
the oJier, and what we do not jointly know about farm- 
ing is known to every successful farmer in the land. 
Many tin.ies during the summer we might have been seen 
Icair'ng on the mossy rail fence while discussing crops and 
Christianity. We were a tie on the first topic, but he 
gave me points on the second, and by some remarks that 
he inade I conclude that he has given the matter much 
thought. His half of the farm bore the farm buildings, so 
I had to build or go into open camp. Some one sug- 
gested that he live in one end of the farmhouse and -I 
live in the other, but Ave concluded that neither would 
live long under such conditions, so I builded not upon 
the sand, but upon a rock, or rather on many rocks.. i ; 
It is fun to plan your own house and see it growing 
day by day, knowing that it is the creation of a massive 
brain, providing, however, you do not forget the stairs 
or doors to pass in and out of. Happily no serious error 
occurred and it is stand'ng to-day fully insured in a 
grove of cedars, chestnuts, maple's, locusts, hickories, 
iron woods, tulip trees and pines. After the house came 
the stable, then an ice .house, and apparently nothing went 
wrong. It is related of an ex-superintendent of. the 
American Watch Company that, becoming weary of well 
doing in small things, he_ sought relaxation in building a 
canoe in his house one winter, and in the spring he could 
not get it out, I never learned whether he tore down 
the house or tore up the canoe. He was a wonderful 
mechanic, and his experience only demonstrates the theory 
that one's extreme brilliancy in one direction is at the 
expense of good judgment in another, and I congratu-. 
late myself that I do not know much of anything, but a 
httle of a good many thing.s. 
. In May and June the birds came. They came as fast 
as the, budding leaves on the trees. They gathered 
around us in ecumenical congress. The bluebird, the 
pcct wcct the red-hooded woodpecker, the thrush', the 
lark, the Baltimore oriole and the robin in turn spoke to 
the gathering. Hidden in the hazel bushes the dissenting 
catbird sent out its raucous voice. They all sang in 
praise of the Creator, and through their voices He is 
"Sounding fortli the truinpet that shall never call retreat; 
Oh, be swift, my heart, to answer Him; be jubilant tny feet!" 
And o'er the forest and the meadows and the tilled land 
the crows held angry discussions in regard to the corn 
laws, and in the evenings and the nights the whip-poor- 
will wailed continuously. "Whip-poor-will." -Who is this 
recroanc Willie? . What offense has he committed that the 
plaintive night call should year after year demand chas- 
tisement? Is he the "Weary Willie"" of to-day. hobo or 
tramp, whose "measured step and slow" has led him to 
disturb the rights of n ght birds? Is the poor Will of 
to-day the Philistine of the past, whose ^unpunished de- 
linquencies sill excite the winged sentinels of darkness to 
demand reparation ? The cry has come down in the night 
time of ages gone, and will continue to come so long as 
the "music of the spheres" is hushed by the closer carilon 
of les.=cr creations. 
This farm was owmed for two score years by the town- 
ship doctor, and the good man, like the rulers in 
medinaval times, caused a high . and broad wall to be 
bxjiU around this city of trees. In doing so he system- 
atically arranged the stones and made more delightful a 
deughtful .<:pot and guarded the slope from rushing waters. 
Back of the grove and wall lies a "forest primeval" and a 
mountafn chasm that "for wildness and immensity is sel- 
dorn e-qU;aied. Through the chasm flows a river in spring 
audi a . brook- in summer. It drains thousands of acre?- and 
it suddenly in the springtime and gently in summer 
It ,ltve? the 'strenuous life" at one time and again is as 
c^l IT) : as the- rocks over which it glides, or as a daisied 
meadow , m June. Quietly it writhes down through the 
negdpw, giving up nourishment to the willow trees under 
which the cows stand in the heat of summer days It 
cools the dlovefi feet of the cattk, goes on mefrlly to meet 
its confitieilt and Wfestle with it in friendly mix Up, and 
toge.her they pass oh to the mill pond to be held in check 
till the miller watlts to see the wheels go around. Into 
Greenwood Lake it rushes at last, and its career as a 
brook is over, unless, perchance, it is picked up in part 
by the clouds and is carried back to come down again. 
Greenwood Lake has been low the past season, until 
much of its bottom has been exposed. Water companies 
have done it under the pretense of fixing the dam, and as 
the wrathful farmers put it, they have not done a 
d thing to it. 
I have wandered off two miles from the farni, and must 
go back to the ravine. 
The sides of the ravine tower above the brook, and the 
cliffs rising story above story, as seen through the bunches 
of rhododendrons and distorted saplings lead one to think 
of the cliff dwellers, and if he be timed at the dusk that 
prevails there while the sun shines outside, he can crouch 
in shelter lest some imaginary barbarian hurl rocks at 
him from above. . 
One July afternoon I rummaged among the rocks in the 
gorge, and overturned stones on . stream banks disclosed 
tadpoles, turtles, frogs, helgramites, lizards and darting 
minnows. The dry places on the shore gave home to 
insect life no less interesting. I became careless in my 
studies and forgot that everything that looks like a root 
is not a root. When the rush of water comes and the 
brook is bank full, all covering and loose substance goes 
down stream as detritus, leaving the snarl of roots look- 
ing like knots of huge worms. One, however, was neither 
root nor worm, but a huge copperhead. I back paddled 
rather lively for a heavyweight, but a gunner's instinct 
came to me, and I blew off his head with a gun shot. The 
wind went out of his tires with a pop, and he took a 
header into the snakes' hereafter. I threw the remains 
onto the ledge where the crows could get them, and in- 
asmuch as all carrion eventually is buried beneath the 
earth's green crust and thereby serves to enrich it and 
make it still greener, I hoped that through the crows the 
refuse would find its place and partially recompense the 
farmer for what the crows had stolen from him. 
The gun shot seemed to have done more than to' kill 
the snake. It seemed to demonstrate the theory of the 
rain makers. The air became sultry, and through the 
openings of the tree tops black copper-edged clouds could 
be seen, and the tree tops moved uneasily. The birds 
hurried to shelter, and like frightened mortals congre- 
gated in bunches, and like them jabbered in fright, each 
in its own tongue, and amid the babel the wind came in 
blocks of ten. Dry and green leaves were driven past, 
some to be jammed in rock fissures, some to be impaled 
upon twigs, othersto go on and bring up where the storm 
might leave them. Huge drops of rain came down, and 
when not intercepted by the foliage struck the stones of 
the .brook like a whip sn^p, and, 
"From peak to peak, the rattling cragfs among, 
Leaps the live thunder." 
Oh, Dame Nature, I love you ! "I'd leave my happy 
home for you," but in that half-hour I saw enough of you 
to last a week, and it convinced me that you were no 
gentleman. You came with skirts disarranged, your hat 
was not' on straight, your shirt waist was ripped up the 
back ind you exposed your bosom to ribald gaze. It was 
disorderly conduct, and as bad as "the Tenderloin" is, you 
would have been "run in" had you done it there. Withal 
you felt badly and cried aloud, and the tear's flowed from 
your eyes until the highways and streamways were 
choked' up. Such actions in the city would be equivalent 
to Retarding the manhole covers on to the roofs of the sky- 
scrapers, letting a load of iron girders on to the Belgian 
blocks, turning on all gas and arc lights, burning the 
docks ^nd shipping, creating a race riot on the East S«ide 
and blowing up a drug house. But in the country you 
were on your own domain, and undoubtedly had rights. 
The city is man's and the country is yours. You fright- 
erted others besides myself, and anon through the log road 
came a child of Abraham. On his back he bore a pack, 
and in his hand he carried the stalk and uncovered ribs 
of an umbrella. The gingham had gone by the board, and 
his silk hat went skyward like a balloon at a country fair. 
His sWart face framed in wet curly ringlets betokened 
fear. His pack of merchandise was askew^ and the flap- 
ping oilcloth left his wares open to the drip from the 
trees. The wet undergrowth wiped the mountainway 
dust from off his feet as he hurried on, while the fire clash 
was about him. Yet what should he fear — why should he 
fear this flame-girt Sinai? It should be to him a sign 
that the chosen people of God are yet in the hollow of 
His hand in wandering and exile as amid the tents of 
Gilgal and the tabernacles of Jerusalem, and that over 
him still wheresoever he goeth are the sun of Gibeon and 
the moon of Ajalon, and the stars of Esdrslon and Sinai. 
Peace go with him and prosperous trade, a pillar of cloud 
by day and a pillar of fire by night. 
Dame Nature, as though ashamed of her esdapade, re- 
arranged her toilet, came out at 6 P. M. in evening dress 
and gave a pink tea. She had washed clean the roadways 
and the earth and foliage, made the soft grass still more 
soft and the springy carpet of pine needles; still more 
elastic. She allowed the sun to go down in the west 
as usual — allowed the reddish-yellow beams to come in 
through the trees until, striking the glazed sash of the 
stable, one would think that the hay was burnfiig therein. 
The crown of the mountain out beyond the farm was 
bright in sunshine. The center slope sent up vapor in 
white bunches as though the cloud factories were running 
overtune. The base and the valley adjacent took on the 
commg dusk. The meditative cows and frisky offvpring 
came barnward, and the pigeons circling around the barn- 
yard called for their evening feed of grain. Then came 
two hours of neither day nor night, until at last the sun- 
light caromed from the moon's surface and silveredt the 
meadows and lit up some dark spots only to leave otiiers 
more murky. , 
With pipe alight aiid feet high on column, I sat on the 
porch listening to the katydid, the cricket and the frog. 
Anon the voice of my daughter— far dearer and sweeter 
to me' than that of the birds— filled the living rpom wath 
inelody of sweet song, and overfliowiag through screened 
door and windows, hushed the voices of lower life into' 
silence. 
"T(3 h^ki ffit'e -Sing So joyousit and sweetly, 
Wfcre boon enough, for Just thy ehafining sake, : 
If thou art not alone and all'Completely 
Enshrined in raptures that thy song doth wake, 
It is that memories lost, all wild and tender. 
Rush back, and, listening to thy ViOice, surrender," 
The long, sweet song ended well into the night. The 
giver favored me with the usual good night kiss, caressed 
the pet spaniel that was nestled beside me, and left us. 
Next to the love of one of your own kind comes the love 
of a dog. The little fellow beside me cannot be driven 
away at any time, and is with me where I wander around 
the place night or day. To paraphrase a little, 
I may scold, I may strike him, abiise as I will. 
But with love and devotion he clings to me Still. 
Some wise old Solon — maybe Seneca — said: "The 
longer I live and the more I know of men the more I 
love a dog," The dog leads the horse a little in intelli- 
gence and faithfulness. The horse is more apt to do some 
erratic thing to upset you. physically and mentally. I 
have been thrown from a horse toward every point of 
the compass, thrown up and thrown down, and yet have 
a few honors in the way of medals for staying on. I have 
a young Western horse in the stable and often look at 
him and wonder whether I would break his back or he 
would break mine should I mount him. He is a slick 
one, yet rather young to be sedate. I am night watchman 
on the farm without pay, and each night anywhere from 
nine to the small hours I go out to see that he is all 
right before retiring. He whinnys at my approach, know- 
ing well that he is to receive some delicacy — maybe an 
"apple, lump of sugar or piece of salted bread. His head 
is over the box stall gate, and we feel for each other in 
the darkness and part as good friends. 
In the summer night when the arched dome above is 
clear of cloud and the stars shine out apparently within 
hand reach, it is easy to imagine that the arch is but- 
tressed on the mountains about us and only covers our 
little home farm, or at least the town that taxes us, and 
you imagine yourself a ruler with divine rights. How 
deceptive the appearance ! What does this globe amount 
to, anyway? It is as nothing to Jupiter and Saturn, and 
they as nothing to. the Sun. The Sun is but a speck in 
the solar system. The Dog Star Sirius is a thousand 
times greater than the Sun, and a million times as far 
away. Light travels 180,000 miles a second, yet it takes 
years for the light of these other worlds to reach us. 
Some of the fixed stars move 22,000 miles per minute, yet 
to us they are in the same old place year after year. The 
solar system itself travels in space among other and great- 
er worlds and other systems, and we know nothing of the 
limits of the universe. What is one man compared to all 
of this? What part of it is he? At most he is a queer 
thing stuck on straddling pegs, and topheavy with vanity 
he topples over at slight cause, and like a defeated 
politician is surprised at the result. He has the bad 
qualities of inferior animals plus an ability to use tools 
and to talk, and his talk gets him into trouble. Taken 
altogether, we are a queer lot. We do qtteer things and 
mean things, and, as Rip Van Winkle says, "How soon 
we are forgotten when once Ave've passed away." 
One day in September I received a message from a 
neighbor, saying: "The Twenty-second New Jersey 
Regiment will hold its reunion at my place on the 22d. 
I wish you to come." The veterans came over the hill 
from the station — came with throb of drum, peal of fife 
and blare of bands, and at the command of "Fours, left — 
Halt !" stood companies front at attention. Maybe the 
line was not perfect — eyes dimmed by age would debar it. 
Perhaps the step was not as springy as that of cadets — 
it would be unkind to expect it of them. Grayed heads 
turned my thotights to our Major Mather, now barracked 
in the final Soldiers' Home, and I remembered how he 
told us that sitting in his den and looking at the relics of 
the chase and the line officer's sword on the wall, the past 
came back- to him. He said, "Sometimes an old man 
rests his eyes upon the relics until the present is forgotten. 
The rushing bison with their, thundering tramp and snort- 
ing grunt go by in countless herds, which somehow change 
into battalions of armed men with glistening bayonets and 
ragged columns, which afterward fade into the brown 
of the forest and the stillness broken by the fall of snow- 
shoes." Peace be with you. Major, and your comrades 
near you. 
To those living we would say : All honor to you. You 
did not mistake a desire to bruise and tear for patriotisfn; 
you believed that your country was right, and you did 
what you thought was right, and time approves of all. 
Many <jf your comrades are sleeping in soldiers' unmarked 
graves bcn.eath the Southern skies; and though their out- 
stretched hands have crumbled into dust, the warm clasps 
that they extended in life are still remembered by your- 
selves and those still more dear to them. Since your 
last reunion some have been called to the front, and in the 
years to come others will be so called, and so on until 
the last roll call will receive no answering "Here." But in 
memory you vvill still be with us, and the generations yet 
unborn wiU on Memorial Day plant the flag of our country 
on the greensward above yon and strew your graves with 
May blossoms in fond remembrance of your gallantry, and 
yott will sleep away, sleep on quietly until the last day, 
when the clarion notes of the Angel Gabriel's reveille breaks 
out on the morning air. Then will you form anew, and 
the reunited battalions marching down the golden streets 
of the Celestial Kingdom to the music of angel bands will 
pass in review before the Great Commander, of whom it is 
said, "He maketh me to lie down in green pastures. He 
leadeth me beside the still waters," and He will proudly 
and justly say to each of you, "Well done, thou good and 
faithful servant; enter thou into the joy of thy Lord." 
"On the other side of Jordan, 
In the sweet fields of Eden, , > i 
Where the tree of life is blooming', 
There is. rest for you." 
The country around Greenwood Lake is as remarkable 
for the variety of game as the water of the lake is noted 
for its fish. Probably there are few localities better suited 
itp fair sport with rod and gun. During the summer the 
'Cal\ of the quail can be heard each day. The grouse drum 
■nndisturbed. in the forest around the house, and in May 
aiid Jtme young rabbits are in the roadways indifferent to 
